The Forgiven Page #3

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Kefilwe,

what are you still doing here?

We're just sitting.

See,

tomorrow, Mpho is turning 20.

I have candles to light.

Twenty.

You should go home.

When I get news of Mpho,

I will tell you, I promise.

Oh, she was...

always wanting to study.

Perhaps to be a doctor.

She always saved for books.

Yes.

Kefilwe knows.

How can I pray for her

if I don't know what happened?

Good evening.

So how did it go?

Interesting.

Well, I see you won't come in

for your cocoa,

so I come out here.

Good night.

This music always reminds me

of President Mandela's

inauguration.

I played it for them.

They wanted to know

about that day.

But how do you convey it,

that sense of freedom?

That, uh, that first moment,

the taste of it.

That sweet, sweet nectar.

How do you convey it

to someone who was born

into freedom?

You can't. You can't.

Oh, my dear, drink your cocoa,

it's getting cold.

Remember...

those jets

flying overhead,

streaming smoke

in the colors

of the new national flag

and...

everybody cheering.

Yes. And you dancing

with that fat white businessman

like two seals.

He wasn't a businessman.

That's what I was telling them.

He was Nelson Mandela's...

ex-jailer.

And we were dancing because...

those jets flying overhead,

they were ours.

Not someone else's.

Ours.

We were free.

I hope we don't let

this slip away.

Oh, no.

And what is it you were really

thinking about out here,

my dear workaholic?

Hmm?

Mrs. Morobe

and her niece

have been waiting

at the Commission

every day this week.

I... promised.

Mpilo,

with your illness,

you know I've had mixed feelings

about you continuing

the chairmanship.

Huh? What?

Why didn't you tell me before?

Oh, Desmond Mpilo Tutu,

you are incorrigible.

There's still some life

in this old goat yet then, huh?

And I know it's important

for Mrs. Morobe,

for all of us,

this Blomfeld man.

Lavinia wants me

to get you to promise

never to see him again.

She says he's very dangerous.

She showed me his letter.

God knows what goes in his head.

He's very clever.

That doesn't mean that

he should get the last word.

Yes, which is exactly why

I asked Varney

to get you his file.

Know your adversary.

You read this?

Twice.

Leah Nomalizo Shenxane.

We've been married so long,

I don't even remember...

how long.

But every day,

you surprise me more...

and more.

Come, come.

Go over to the goat.

Oh. Yes.

What do you advise me?

Salute!

Salute.

Salute.

Salute!

Salute.

Salute!

Salute.

Blomfeld!

You like my wall, Kruger?

Yeah, I like it.

The kaffirs are up to something.

You should take the kaffirs

down a peg.

You know what

"Paradise Lost" is, Kruger?

A nightclub?

It's a poem, you clutch plate,

about me.

F*** you.

Aaah!

Down!

Get down.

Get the f*** down, you f***ers!

Down!

Down!

Down. Now.

Do you want a f***ing lockdown,

you animals?

No, sir!

Are there rules

here, you bastards?

Yes, sir!

Whose f***ing rules are they?

Yours, sir!

Whose f***ing rules are they?

Yours, sir!

Don't you forget it.

No, sir!

Salute

Salute!

You're a man now, Idukwe.

Ex-President F.W. de Klerk

started off with

what Desmond Tutu later called

a handsome apology.

Apartheid was wrong.

I apologize in my capacity

as leader of the National Party

to the millions

of South Africans

who suffered

the wrenching disruption

of forced removals

in respect of their homes,

businesses, and land,

who over the years

suffered the shame

of being arrested

for pass law offenses.

Hansie?

What?

The fete, Melissa's school fete.

You should come.

They'll wonder why

you aren't there.

Who for a long time were...

Sanette and Jan are coming.

I told them we'd all go

for a braai with the kids.

A braai.

Yeah, let's go for a braai.

I'll say this for those blacks,

at least their leaders

stand by their men.

To the millions

of South Africans

who suffered

the wrenching disruption

of forced removals in respect

of their homes,

businesses, and land,

who over the years

suffered the shame

of being arrested

for pass law offenses.

Who over the decades

and indeed centuries

suffered the indignities

and humiliation

of racial discrimination.

The head of the ANC's legal department,

Matthews Phosa,

remarked afterwards

that de Klerk sat in Pretoria

and knew everything that went on

in the ANC's Quattro camp

in faraway Angola,

but nothing about Vlakplaas...

So, you're back, huh?

Glutton for it, are we?

So you have whipped that pig de Klerk.

So what?

So,

we are living in Technicolor.

Now they are saying

that it's time for

the rainbow nation

to unite.

That's what they're saying,

is it?

You, white boy in Hout Bay,

with an up and under

behind the door?

Terre Blanche and the AWB.

You Green and Golds, is it?

Sh*t, man, that is buffalo dung.

You know, Mr. Blomfeld,

when I left here last time,

I didn't just even think,

"Well...

that's that.

It's over."

I have fully,

fully investigated your case.

And?

And...

amnesty for your crimes

is highly unlikely.

You showed your victims

no mercy,

and besides the...

extreme brutality,

your crimes reveal

no political context.

No political context?

My context,

as you call it,

stretches back some 300 years.

When my ancestors

were farming this land

and building its cities,

yours were creeping out

of the bush,

trying to murder them.

That's context.

My people were murdered

by yours.

In Zimbabwe.

Yes, I know.

Zimbabwe, South Africa?

Same difference.

Is it?

Is it the same?

I don't know.

You're the expert on context.

You tell me.

Your people

Believed in this...

this little subversive book.

It's a beautiful little book.

It's my favorite,

which teaches us,

"Proclaim liberty

to the captive,

sight to the blind

and to set

the oppressed free."

That's in Luke 4:18.

Your people...

felt they were being oppressed

by the British,

they fought back

and they became free.

So you need to learn

from your own history

that when a people

decide to be free,

my dear friend, nothing,

absolutely nothing

is gonna stop them

from becoming free.

Yes. Very good.

Very high-minded of you.

But there's something

you just don't get, kaffir.

Something you just do not get.

Killing someone

is never political,

no matter what anyone says.

Killing someone is personal.

It's always, always personal.

It's simple.

You like to read, eh?

Study on this,

"Unconquerable will,

study of revenge,

immortal hate,

courage to never submit

or yield,

what else is not to be overcome?

Better to reign in Hell

than to serve in Heaven."

Lucifer.

You quoted that poem

in your letter.

So papa was a teacher,

so I'm assuming he knows

it's "Paradise Lost."

And if you don't,

you're just one more

half-educated mzee

in my eyes.

You're a dreamer, my old Hotnot.

I grant you that.

A f***ing dreamer.

Dreamer?

Yes.

I, for 40 years,

I dreamed of voting...

freely in a free country

in the land of my birth.

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